A New Take
by samsmom
Summary: A continuation of "A New Year." Sara and Catherine have been together for a couple months now - it's early April. Sara picks Catherine up from work one morning for breakfast.


I. Catherine

I check the mirror for what could easily be the millionth time, before leaving the locker room and heading outside. In the past, by the time I've dated someone for a couple months, I've quit caring so much about what I look like all the time. But this…this is different. This is Sara. This matters. I took time to shower today, rather than just heading straight out. I know I'm making Sara wait, but I doubt it will take much to convince her to forgive me.

I see Sara's car in a space across the lot as I leave the building, and I steer myself toward it. As I crawl into the passenger seat, I can tell she's been in her own little world. I have no idea what she's been thinking about, but I know it means she has no idea that I'm fifteen minutes later than I told her I'd be. I smile as I lean over and give her a quick peck on her cheek. "Hi, Sar. I'm sorry it took me so long; I decided to shower first."

"Hi yourself." Sara smiles back and begins to pull out of the lot. "How was shift? You didn't need to shower on my account – you know it doesn't matter to me how dirty you are." She winks at me as she says this. We've been using a lot of innuendos lately, building up the sexual tension between us. We still haven't taken that physical leap yet: we wanted to take things slow, do it right, really get to know each other _outside_ of work first. It's been a couple months now, and if we don't step it up a notch soon, I may just go crazy. I know this is relatively new for Sara, but I've been so aware of my attraction to her for so long, my patience is starting to wane.

Sara's taking me to breakfast this morning. It's become a bit of a habit for us. At least once a week, we go for breakfast, often trying somewhere new. Sara will sometimes ask me what I think about a particular place. She must have already picked a place: she looks like she's on a mission with her eyes glued forward. As we pull out of the lot, I begin to tell her about the night. "You're right, Babe. If I were going home to bed, I'd have waited until I got there to shower. But I felt gross this shift. Besides, I know how you like the smell of this body wash." Sara hums in agreement as she takes my hand in hers and makes a show of smelling my arm.

My crime scene had been one dump of a house. Whoever last occupied the place was definitely a hoarder. There was trash everywhere. Most of it was nondescript – boxes, torn up clothing, lamps, furniture, and the like. There was also other, more harmful, stuff with noxious odors – chemical waste, multiple cat litter boxes, a half-open refrigerator stuffed with rotten food. At least, I assume it was once food. According to records, the last occupant died five years ago and the house has been vacant ever since. "There was so much nastiness in that house, Sara…It stunk to high heaven. The smell was so rank, the decomp didn't even stand out. They may never have found the bodies if that cat hadn't dragged a bone to the neighbor's yard. God only knows what else they'll find there once it's cleaned up." I've put the seat in a half reclined position and closed my eyes against the bright morning sun.

"Sounds lovely. How'd you get out of the cleanup?"

"They called in hazmat specialists. Nick found a few cans of some type of acid and we were all shooed out. They have to clear the area before we can even finish processing the scene." Sara takes a couple turns before coming to a stop. I open my eyes, curious where we're going, only to discover that we're in the lot at Heritage Park. "I'm not complaining, but I thought we were going to go eat, Sar."

"We are," she answers. Sara's unbuckled herself and is climbing out of the Tahoe as she turns to look at me. "Coming?"

By the time I manage to put the seat back into its upright position and get out of the car, Sara's got the tailgate open. I walk toward the back, only to nearly run into a Tupperware pitcher filled with juice. "Will you take this, please? I'm afraid I'll drop something."

"We're eating here?" My voice sounds incredulous, though I don't know why. I look up to see a quick flash of confusion and hurt on Sara's face. "I didn't know you had such romantic notions in you, Sidle," I quip as an effort to recover myself, and the mood. I take in the picnic basket and the blanket in Sara's arms and reach up to close the tailgate for her. "C'mon," I say, as I grab her elbow and pull her toward a grassy patch near the shade trees that looks quiet.

As we lay out the blanket and begin to dig into the basket, I notice Sara still looks a bit timid and unsure. "It's a beautiful morning, Babe. This was a really good idea; I'm glad you thought of it. I didn't mean to sound so surprised; sometimes, I still forget how much there is left to learn about the you who's _not_ at work." That seems to help – Sara gives me a big smile as she leans over and places a piece a cinnamon roll in my mouth. "Mmm," I swallow the bite and reach for more as I place a tender kiss on Sara's lips. "That's really good." I stare at her lips as I say this, and the blush on her cheeks tells me she understood the double meaning there.

"I'm glad you like it. I picked up breakfast from 'Drago Sisters' right before I picked you up." She grins, seemingly quite proud of herself.

"You went to Drago Sisters? And you bought…" I open the lid of the picnic basket and peek in, realizing it's nearly full to overflowing. There were two servings each of coffee cake, fruit pastries, Napoleons, and Cannoli, and one more cinnamon roll. In a small Tupperware container nearly hidden by all the pastries, I see a few chocolate covered strawberries. "Did you buy the whole store? Jeez, Sara, you must have spent a fortune!"

"Well, it all looked so good, and I've never had the chance to go before. I couldn't make up my mind." The look on her face changes to one of uncertainty. "Is that okay?"

For the second time this morning, I am feeling the need to reassure her. I spent a lot of time reinforcing her instincts in February. She's spent so many years alone, it took a bit of encouragement for her to feel like she didn't have to check that everything met my standards. She seems a bit more hesitant today than she has been lately. I reach over and place my hand on hers, making sure her eyes are on mine before I respond. "Sweetheart, it's absolutely okay. It's more than okay. I love the fact that you want to spoil me and go the extra mile to make the everyday stuff special. I love that you let me do that for you, too. I love that we can do those things without expectations and that it's not assumed that we will do them. As long as it stays that way, it is _always_ okay. Okay?" I pause and notice she is now sporting a slight smirk. "What's funny?"

"What?" She seems to snap out of some type of reverie, "Oh, um…nothing, really. You just had this really intense look on your face. It was as if the point you were trying to make was the most important one in the world. I love that look on you."

"At this moment in time, it _is_ the most important point in the world. You seem uncertain about something today – more so than you've been in a few weeks. I need you to know how much it means to me when you do things like this."

"Okay, I think I get it. Thank you." She smiles at me, leaning in for a soft kiss at the same time. As I finish my cinnamon roll, she pours a couple glasses of juice and lies down on the blanket with her head propped in her hand. "So…what would you like to do today?"

"I would love to just lie here with you for a while – enjoy each other's company, and munch on some of those delicious looking pastries, and maybe feed you some strawberries." I smirk as she blushes; she must have thought she hid them better.

"Sounds like a plan," she grins.

"And," I pause for a few seconds. "I would love to figure out what has you insecure today." I am again looking her straight in the eye. I know this is the most effective form of communication with Sara: she can read my eyes just as easily as she can read her forensics journals. I know that by holding that eye contact, she knows I'm serious, that I care, and that I'm not running off based on what she says.

II. Sara

'Oh, shit. I don't know if I'm really ready for this conversation yet.' Catherine has just pinned me with the _'I'm not moving until you tell me, so you might as well spit it out,"_ look. So I really might as well just figure out what it is I'm wanting to say.

"I don't know, really. I mean, I don't know what the words are." I roll onto my back, folding my arms and placing them under my head. Catherine shifts herself and lies down with her head on my stomach. I immediately find my hand stroking her hair. I can't really see her eyes now, but the physical contact is calming. "I've just been thinking, I guess." She doesn't respond with more than "Mmm," so I know she's just going to let me talk. "Please don't think I'm complaining, because I'm doing quite the opposite, but…how did we get together? What brought it on?"

"Well," I can see the smile on her face as she rolls a bit off of me to pick up a piece of coffee cake. She tears a small piece off and gently feeds it to me. "As I recall, you kissed me. Then you told me it was nothing." She resumes her position on my stomach, this time facing me. "I was pissed, and hurt." She pauses again as if she's thinking about it. "Then, suddenly you were in my office doorway, being nice. The next thing I knew, we were on Kate and Jenny's back deck, kissing. I suppose the rest is history?"

"Yes. No. I mean…how did we even get to that point? Four months ago, our arguing was just as it was when I first got here. How did we go from oil and water to…this?" I waved my hand between us, signaling our current relationship. "What changed?"

"Nothing changed. Everything changed." She grins at the confused look on my face before continuing. "I've harbored feelings for you for a while. That didn't change before or after our New Year's kiss. That's why I was so upset when you told me that kiss meant nothing. You may not have expected it, but I know – looking back – that you had to have felt the spark between us. Otherwise, there's no way that it would have lasted as long as it did."

"True," I acknowledge. "But how did we get from there to here?"

"I think _you_ have the answer to that one." She feeds me another bite of muffin and I hum in acknowledgment. "You're the one who denied the spark. You're the one who later called the truce: who showed up in my doorway with coffee. Nothing changed about how I felt toward you after that kiss, but _everything_ changed about how I reacted to you after you shot me down without a chance. Everything changed again when you started showing an interest in Lindsey, and in my life outside the office. I'm not complaining either, but why the change of heart?"

I smile sheepishly before answering. "Kate and Jenny. I told them about our New Year's kiss, and what I said the next morning. Kate practically ripped me a new one for the way I handled it. She then proceeded to enlighten me on your immediate reaction to said kiss." I can see Catherine is trying to figure out how exactly she had reacted. "Kate said something about you trying _not_ to be on Cloud Nine for the rest of the evening."

"I didn't realize I was acting any differently," Catherine grins widely at me as she leans forward for a soft kiss.

As Catherine pulls away, I realize I had no clue that she'd had feelings for me before January. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long was I oblivious to your emotions?"

She shrugs and looks embarrassed. "Seven years. Maybe more. I don't know exactly when it started. The physical attraction was there immediately, but I don't know when the feelings came into play."

"Does it bother you that I was so ignorant until recently? Doesn't that kinda put me behind on the learning curve?" I smile when I ask this question, but I'm nervous about Catherine's answer.

She smiles back at me, easing my doubts. "Sara, it bothered me more when you were – as you so delicately put it – oblivious to those emotions than it does now. At least now I don't have to fight it, ignore it, or push you away. I like being able to embrace those emotions, let them wash over me, and do this." She leans up and gives me a sweet, slow kiss. She hums as she pulls away. "Look, Sar, I know you need time to 'catch up,' but I'm fine with that. This whole taking it slow thing is okay with me. I won't say it's always easy because it isn't." She gives me a sexy smile at that admission. "I don't know if I've ever really 'done things the right way,' and I'm really enjoying taking the extra time to get to know each other even better."

Catherine's facial expressions during that little speech tell me just as much as her words do. This is the real thing – I can see it in her eyes. I also know she's not completely okay with the slow thing anymore. I've known that for a week or so now – the heat in her eyes when she looks at me continues to increase. Lately, when she looks at me, my body feels like it's smoldering.

"You do, huh?" I grin as I ask. "I love…that too." I'm glad Catherine's not looking at me right now. She'd see the shocked look on my face at what I almost added. ' _I love you._ Holy mother of God, I'm in love with Catherine!' I've only ever told two people I love them: my mother, and Mandy. My mother laughed in my face and physically pushed me off her. It was the last time I ever tried to hug her. I caught Mandy in bed with our neighbor a week after I told her I loved her. That was it – thirteen months together down the drain a week after I shared my heart. I know I shouldn't be afraid of that with Catherine; I know she's not going to go anywhere, or find some other lover, or…I forcefully push those thoughts to the back of my mind, resolving to think about my personal revelation later, while Catherine sleeps.

We settle back down on the blanket. I rest my head on one arm, the other securely holding onto Catherine, who has put her head back on my chest. We lie there for another hour or so, just enjoying each other's company. The silence that fell between us was comfortable and peaceful, occasionally interrupted by a relatively random comment or question from one of us. Nothing of particular importance, though I did learn that Catherine's favorite color is green, her favorite flowers are calla lilies, and her favorite holiday is Memorial Day.

"Memorial Day? That's really random, Cath."

"Yeah, I know," she let out a little giggle with that statement. "I just love what it stands for. I know lots of people just see it as a three day weekend, but I don't. I see it as a day to really reflect on, and be thankful for, the sacrifice that so many people have made for this country. It's not that I'm overly patriotic, really. I just appreciate what we have, I guess. I know it took a lot of sacrifices to get to where we are. I dunno, it sounds really corny when I put it to words."

"Hmm," I squeeze her a little. "Well, I like the corny Catherine, so it's okay." She looks up at me and I kiss her forehead and we settle back into silence.


End file.
